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Anne Forsyth recalls life as a woman reporter on a busy city newspaper, covering stories from kohlrabi to riots...
Abrilliant start to my first day as a reporter on an evening newspaper in a large city, my first job was covering an exhibition of very expensive jewellery. Everything a girl could desire… and I was even allowed to try on one of the precious necklaces! Life couldn’t get better – could it?
I was right – it didn’t! The next day I was sent on a freezing winter morning to report on the local fruit and veg markets. The first edition of the paper was on the streets by midday and the goings-on at the markets were a regular feature. How much has changed since the Fifties – there were no polytunnels or domestic freezers then. In the summer we ran headlines such as ‘Rain
‘I was the one sent to cover the riot. Except there wasn’t a riot...’
hits orchards and prices soar’ and the arrival of imported fruit made news. Sometimes it was hard for the sub-editors to find a racy headline – so we had, ‘Try kohlrabi – it’s from Lancashire’ or, ‘Let’s give turbot a chance’.
The market men were a generous lot and would often hand over a punnet of strawberries – I was even given a chicken one Christmas!
I remember one meat trader invited me for a tour of the slaughterhouse; I didn’t see any slaughter, but it left me with a queasy feeling and no appetite for the bacon and egg breakfast that followed!
But there were more exciting assignments…
If you remember Bill Haley and the Comets you may recall the rock ’n’ roll riots. All over the country when Bill Haley and his band appeared in person at local cinemas, the audience (mostly teenagers) went wild. They rampaged up and down the aisles, sometimes even tearing up the seats. Magistrates handed down hefty sentences on those apprehended and newspapers seized on it.
Bill and the band were coming to our city cinema and additional police were called in, newspaper headlines prepared – and I was the lucky reporter sent to cover the riot... Except there wasn’t a riot. The cinema, packed with teenagers, was almost silent as the band struck up, so the extra police stood down and the reporter went home without a story!
Blackpool in summer was the assignment all the reporters wanted. It was the time when crowds piled into trains from Glasgow and the North-East for a fun-filled week at the seaside.
When it was my turn to take on the job I set off with The Contact Book, filled with names which would be useful – town council, cinemas, theatres, police, etc. It had been compiled by the reporter who covered Blackpool the previous year. He handed it over solemnly, saying ‘If you lose it, don’t come back.’
The first thing I did was leave it on a tram but luckily, a kind passenger handed it in and I lived to write another day!
Though women reporters covered cosy human interest stories, we might just as easily find ourselves covering some unsavoury police court case if the regular crime reporter was away. We were even sent to sporting events – quite forward thinking for the Fifties! One year, the city’s two football teams had a glorious season – one winning the League, the other the Cup. There was a wonderful civic lunch in celebration and a reporter was dispatched. All the men on the staff would have sold their grandmothers to be there – but I was sent instead!